Where is the lungi you once wore?
The white one with black checks-
It felt soft and
Old-old with the pleasant weight
You wear shorts now:
Little boxes you insert
Your legs into-searching
For a freedom
That can only be afforded
By a lungi.
Did you forget
The stories of
Our rice fields
Our coconut trees
Our painted faces and
Our ritualistic dances-
Let not the backwaters of your still Malayali mind
Wash away these echoes of our past-a past
That is still very present, and
It is your lungi that has all these stories woven,
Tightly packed in those checks
Of your fabric.
Dear father, please
Wear your lungi again because I-